O sweet, delusive Noon, Which the morning climbs to find, O moment sped too soon, And morning left behind.
- Helen Hunt JacksonI know the lands are lit, with all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod.
- Helen Hunt JacksonBy all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And autumn's best of cheer.
- Helen Hunt JacksonBee to the blossom, moth to the flame; Each to his passion; what's in a name?
- Helen Hunt JacksonThe goldenrod is yellow, The corn is turning brown, The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down.
- Helen Hunt Jackson